Ornithohobia
by Aspergian Mind
Summary: Sometimes our fears come back to haunt us in the worst way possible. A lone Marine on his first mission in Harvest meets his own in the most monstrous of proportions and drive him to the brink to where he could overcome it or be destroyed.


HALO – Phobia

By The Aspergian Mind

The worst fears of a person's life get worse seeing them in such harrowing forms.

A/N: A bit of an exercise before I plan to do a major take on HALO. Open to honest criticism. Seriously I never feel like I accomplish anything unless I'm told of my errors and do better next time. So feel free to tell me what has bugged you, maybe even send PMs if the problems are as big as paragraphs to show me how you'd improve it.

_Italics - change of POV_

* * *

HARVEST

2525

Day 187 of the battle.

I never liked pointed objects. Every time I see something with a sharp end, pointing towards my eyes squint as if it's going to be poked. It may sound condemning to have a paranoia, but it's really just more acuteness to call it more positively from past experience. For you see the entire 'point' -har har- of a sharp object is to penetrate. Scissors penetrate paper, needles penetrate cloth. And here, I'm surrounded by a bunch of points that serve the purpose to defend itself: thorns.

Out of all the places I land in, I had to land in a brier patch. Out of the entire landing zone of three square miles I land in the middle of a brier patch. The only way through are these preexisting paths laid by either larger animals or the local population, or worst the Covenant.

Behind enemy lines, something as noticeable as pods landing is going to have searchers all over the place. The crater is creating smoke, signaling the enemy of landed danger. Have to run to put as much distance between me and the pod. Meet with the team, or member, at God knows where. And running just makes the thorns come faster and more frantic. I really hope I meet someone with better eyes.

My eyes twitch and squint the whole way. I can't stand how the mere sight of them. Some of limbs stick out the worn trail and come closer to the face than I could take. One thing comes to mind when under negative circumstances, "Why am I here again?"

Having lived my entire life near to Harvest on the next system at the planet Green Hills, the military naturally call in those closest to the front, so me and half of us college graduates are called in and enlisted as quickly as possible. Being a bunch of 'green fruit,' we needed to be ripened to have any efficiency against what monstrosities that have been being reported from Harvest.

Am I ready to face anything thrown at me in combat? Can I endure injuries and the sights and smells?

I don't mind being poked else where in the body, but should it near my face my eyes shroud in fear. Being in the Corp you have to follow orders without question, so they have you or make you cast aside your fears to eliminate the possibility of human error. I had a sergeant who really knows how to use force to kick out our fears. In my case particular, he was a real pencil-pusher. Sounds real good in the end, I would have walked out with a new sense of confident vision. But I didn't have time for we were all called suddenly to the next wave of news that all is going ill against forces never witnessed before by man.

Yeah, they'd skip over our phobias and symptoms, just as long as we know how to shoot. Our state of mind is to gain strength from experience.

Fears are inconsistent. I took the Pod fairly well and I could do it again. And bullets, I never thought about them being pointed objects too. Though a bullet is so fast you wouldn't worry about it looming around somewhere to strike, just all of a sudden shock of pain from seemingly nowhere, unless it's in the eye. I'm not scared of the dark, just what could be in it. The dark is a good hiding place for anything that doesn't want to be found, those lesser kind things. There are many different kinds of fear.

_,\~`/|}_

_Sniff Sniff_

_'^~/\{]  
_  
Now I also have a preordained fear for this new treat of humanity, the Covenant. Hearing the fresh tales from recently returned fatalities. Who wouldn't be afraid other than a Spartan?

They've given names as well as hideous descriptions to them. Elites being giant crocodiles with mandibles and Brutes like a gorilla, but three times the size. I don't know whether true or not, since the news of encountering an alien civilization is overwhelming enough.

I wonder which ones I'm going to meet. Good thing a Brute or an Elite are too big to scout through here comfortably. Though there is camouflage that literally makes them invisible, but luckily I heard it's advanced technology that's seen only infrequently. Grunts are too dumb. Though when mentioning the name Jackal, there's something more insidious about it. Sounds malignant with covertness, something who is attracted to dark corners. I don't like sneaks.

Like I said that all point objects are alike, every time I see a thorn for a certain amount of time it would appear also like a sharp beak of a bird.

Birds were the cause. 11 years old I was when I climbed a tree and unexpectedly disturbed a nest. The bird always goes for the face and eyes. I fell 20 feet, though not straight down I hit a limb somewhere on the way that dislocated my shoulder, but that wasn't the trauma. I could have lost my eyes. Something so small make such a decisive attack on the head of senses, creating disorientation and shock. That's why I got afraid of points, they damage, they hurt.

Most fears are just natural, though there are those few that are more infectious on the human mind from a source of trauma.

**_SNAP!_**

I break into kill stance now, legs just bucked forward to stop, foot placement widening so to turn in any direction. My eyes felt literally engorged now to spot for danger, but then squint again when it sees their fear was surrounding them already.

Something is approaching. My walk slows to calculate each step, so not to make a snap to alert it. The ever shifting stance, looking in full circle, amongst countless rows of branches and thorns, shift the lighting to where it's a mind game of constantly play the forms of night black and moon-lit white.

I decide to keep still, my motion ceasing would cease the movement of the surrounding foliage from doing its tricks of light. The only movement would be approaching danger.

Though the approach could be from anywhere. I crouch into a corner where there's a insert into the foliage. It's almost like a small cave into a mountain by how contrast it is between the sculpted out hole and the literal wall of twigs and thorns. Some areas are so thick with thorns that large 30 foot trees are being drooped.

This will do, I can't be flanked here. It'll have to come to me.

The crunching steps on twigs are not done by a flat foot otherwise it would be louder, but of a smaller foot span. Single snaps on individual twigs, not big feet crushing a whole pile. At least it's not something large like a Brute thankfully. Would be a Grunt, that's small enough but still are stubbed at the feet.

I thought I saw some thicker limbs, but they weren't limbs of a small tree, but a dinosaur it looks like.

It approaches toward the path I was on. Good thing the path here is a straight isle up to me so I'd get a clear shot.

The crunching intensifies as it nears. It's close enough to where I can hear other sounds. Sniffs, quick vents, shots of air in and out tiny holes I guess.

There.

Something pokes out into the isle about human height. Triangular, like a giant dagger, or spear end, which ever it is, it's still pentrating in nature. What would make an entrance with a figure such as that? I remember bird bills do, that bird came at me beak first.

I see now in front of me a bird a big as a man in most harrowing form. Eyes are unreadable, just black pearls glaring emotionlessly a worn shine suppose to probably be the iris. I was quivering in fear as it was staring at me and I can't read what it's thinking. Only one name fits that description, a Jackal. But this isn't a little scavenger fox, it's a scavenger bird like a hawk, or buzzard more like it. It's just as ugly.

My paralyzed stare made me forget. "Oh, Fuck! Shoot!"

It scampers away, just as I did a quick cock and fired.

"Yeah, take that! Run, I'll end you!" Swirl of confidence swells me up. This is my chance. I'll break out of my paranoia by conquering it. I don't need a pencil-pushing sergeant to force it out, I need to experience it first hand.

My focus is on nothing but that thing. All these thorns suddenly insignificant to the battle. This feels good.

It turned the corner, I'll head it off. By shooting I mean, no way I'll charge through a brier patch still.

The twig branches stand nothing against bullets shooting through the hollow cages of air. I shoot through the down isle to the side to head it off. It cuts through the foliage with no problem. The intertwined branches that form standing structures collapse.

Gotta keep up. I ran to where I last saw it. Down the main path there were dozens of path branching off, but I need not look a second to find which one it'd picked before it disappeared.

I see it, just turning the corner. I burst into sprinting to catch up to a new path that it took. Still in sight and range I resume firing and yelling triumphantly. It's my day to seize.

It returned some fire, but you can see a plasma beam from a mile away to know when to duck. Around another corner in a labyrith of knife-sticks I see it full view, this time it won't be a while for it to be out of sight in the corner. A glimpse of the surroundings of where I'm engaging picked up seeing another of those sagging limbs, choked with thorns.

The Jackal shot a few calculated shots, but didn't seem like it by them not aiming at me. They seem premature the way the shoots were made, as if to hit ahead of me rather than at me.

Only by it's approach did I see it's intended target. The base of the limb. I'm going to run into it when it falls if I don't stop. I skid as hard as I could my feet bursting with resisting friction to stop immediately. But the limb and all the sagging weight of the thorn bushes, as big as a car, had chopped down at me.

I feel penetration invade every corner of my body. Stabs through my soft and hard spots. Most significantly, a pain sprung out of one of my sockets and my sight is no longer through a pair.

I don't know if moving will make it feel worse. God, I feel like a hundred of those birds are jabbed in me everywhere!

It approaches, looming over my weakened state. It is now the controller holding my life in it's hands.

Oh, what ugly final moments to depart from in my only life.

_/';`~}|\{_

_Clear crisp screams translate to distorted gurgles._

_/'`\|'~;^\_

* * *

A/N: I believe I no doubt gotten some of the history wrong. Like the Spartan Program wasn't revealed until the middle of the war. Sometimes I skip over consitiency to seek details to further emphasis the elements that I'm writing, such as the horror he's going through.

Spent a lot of the time reworking it. I don't know if rewriting is always the best route because the next day it suddenly doesn't sound right and then randomly go to something to change it for sake of it. Oh, well, this is the final version so I'll live with it.

I might even do a short film on it. It was inspired by the story here. I've written it, partly story-boarded it, and even got it timed perfectly with an outstanding soundtrack. And while working on the film, it revitalized the story itself in return. It would be on my YouTube Channel...eventually.


End file.
